Writer VS Monster
by SuperBear
Summary: When a powerful boy like Anthony can sense your intentions, how exactly do you plot to get rid of him? The answer may lie with that mysterious stranger sitting in the town jail: a writer named Rod Serling.


"Hey, Bill. What say we go for a walk to the town jail?" Carl Johnson asked.

"That'd be a real good thing to do," Bill Winters replied in a lifeless automatic fashion.

As the two walked, the tall long-legged Carl took long strides while the shorter Bill walked quickly, almost running to keep up. Bill thought how saying "that'd be a real good thing" had become second nature, a reflex action.

He was getting very tired of faking it. Especially since that little incident at the birthday party where the birthday boy got turned into a giant jack-in-the-box just before being banished to the cornfield. And all because the birthday boy wanted to listen to some singing. Anthony did not like singing.

Bill wasn't actually at the birthday party; he'd only heard about it. Like Carl and some others in town, Bill stayed in the background. Still, the birthday party incident was enough to make Bill wish Anthony would go away. And Bill was very glad he was not the Bill from the store who had to actually visit the Fremont house.

Sometimes Bill wondered if he should just antagonize Anthony so he could be sent to the cornfield and be done with it. It'd feel good to just tell off the town's monster, the all-powerful brat.

Yes, stand up to him. So what if he got sent to the cornfield? Life in the cornfield couldn't be worse than life in the Kingdom of the Boy Dictator, could it? Shoot, all the people sent there were probably having a regular party without the boy-brat to boss them around. No walking on Anthony eggshells in the cornfield.

Once he realized what he was thinking, Bill shut it all off. You-know-who might be tuning in.

They were at the town jail. The stranger would be waiting. Even as a relative recluse, Bill had heard of the stranger. Who hadn't? It was said he came from the Outside. Which was odd because as far as anyone knew Outside was all gone. Anthony had sent it all away.

Another reason to go to the cornfield: meet all those Canadians and people from Africa and India. A fellow could keep busy just shaking hands with all the people in the world. And best of all, no Anthony to interfere. Just a great big global brotherhood of man. And the women-folk, too, of course.

But getting back to the stranger. Another odd thing about him was the way he just appeared out of nowhere. And Anthony, instead of sending him to the cornfield, ordered him sent to jail.

Now Bill finally had his chance to see this mysterious fellow.

Once inside the jailhouse, Bill found the strangest-looking jailbird he had ever seen. Neat wavy dark hair, sharp pressed blue suit, thick eyebrows. And something about him, a quiet power and authority.

Bill decided the stranger, with those eyebrows of his, was a somewhat handsome fellow, in an odd alien kind of way.

Bill dispensed with pleasantries. "Are you from the outside, mister?"

"I am indeed," he said. "Far outside, my friend."

"Hmm," Bill said. "I didn't know there was anything still out there."

"I'm from another world," the man explained matter-of-factly.

"That right?" Bill grunted. "And what kind of name do you have on this other world of yours?"

"Rod Serling," he said.

"Hmm," Bill said. "And what do you do, Mister Serling? That is, when you're not traveling to other worlds."

"I'm a writer."

Bill's eyebrows went up as he adopted a mocking look. "Oh? And what exactly do you write?"

"Television programs." Mr. Serling seemed amazingly calm and cool, especially for a world-traveler in jail.

"I'm afraid there's no work for you here," Bill said drily. "Anthony creates all the television."

"Maybe not for long," Carl said. "Wait until you see what Mister Serling can do."

Bill was about to make another snide remark. But in the next moment, he had to draw back. He was surrounded by six tall gleaming stainless-steel robots.

"What's all this?" Bill demanded. When he looked over at Mr. Serling, the man was sitting on his cot with a silver tray on his lap. A white vase held a pink rose as Mr. Serling forked a pink-edged piece of steak into his mouth.

Carl's smile showed all his teeth. "Mister Serling can create things with his mind."

As Bill stood with his mouth open, Carl went on. "Think about it. When Mister Serling first got here, Anthony didn't send him to the cornfield. I don't think he could. He had his face all scrunched up like he was really trying real hard to send Mister Serling away." Here, Carl clenched his fists and squinted as he hunched down a little. "But Mister Serling just stood there cool as could be, like he wasn't going anywhere." Carl gave a nod as he supplied more of that toothy smile.

Bill rubbed his chin with his thumb. "He did just kind of show up out of nowhere. Or so I heard."

"You heard correctly, Mister Winters."

Bill's eyes widened slightly. "How'd you know my name?"

"Mister Serling can read minds," Carl said excitedly. "Just like Anthony can!"

Before Bill could give this any thought, he blinked in amazement as the silver tray abruptly vanished.

As he chewed, Mr. Serling spoke calmly and methodically. "It is true that I did just show up here. All of sudden I was with Anthony's mother and father. And they asked me, 'Who are you? What are you doing here?'"

"You'd think they'd be used to weird stuff by now," Bill said.

Mr. Serling went on like he hadn't heard. "The cameras, the studio, the actors. All gone."

"Cameras?"

Mr. Serling nodded. "My television program. I was introducing an episode."

"Oh, yes. That's right. Your T-V show." Again, Bill snorted. "Probably different from the T-V Anthony makes for us." It seemed like all his frustration with the boy was being let out.

"Anything different is good," Carl said. "But I think the important thing is Mister Serling can help us against Anthony."

"I'm listening."

Carl, waving his hands, became even more lit up. It was rare to see someone so happy under the tyranny of Anthony the Terrible.

"When we brought Mister Serling here, he said all kinds of bad things about Anthony. And nothing happened to him. I was able to say bad things, too, and look, I'm still here." To demonstrate his point, he gestured up and down over his gray suspenders. "That's why I kept coming back to the jail. To think and say whatever I want about Anthony. It's like a breath of fresh air." Here he clutched his suspenders and nodded his chin up and down like an old country politician finishing a speech.

He then leaned in and whispered. "Even when I leave here, it's like Anthony doesn't know. I think Mister Serling's presence has distracted Anthony somehow, messed up his concetration, his power."

"That's all good and fine," Bill grunted. "And no one wants to bring down Anthony more than me." Briefly, he paused for the expected lightning or other catastrophe. When such was not forthcoming, he went on. "But how's this going to help us get rid of the brat?"

At the word "brat," they all paused, with Bill expecting the cornfield to materialize at any moment. Again, nothing. No Canadians or Asian women for Bill to shake hands with.

"What's all this mean as far as getting rid of the monster?" Bill asked.

Mr. Serling started to speak but Carl jumped in, lifting his chin and snapping his suspenders.

"Mister Serling can do more than just protect us from Anthony. Since he can create things with his mind, he should be able to stop Anthony somehow. Well, you see the robots, don't you?"

"Yes. Yes, I do." Bill glanced around at the mechanical men then at the man in the cell. "Mister Serling, if you can do all these things and you have this great power, why'd you sit here in jail?"

As he grinned, Mister Serling shrugged. "I can create whatever food I need." He held out presenter hands. "A fine medium-well-done steak. A baked potato. Chocolate milkshake. Whatever I want. Plus whatever T-V I want to watch."

"Not just Anthony television," Carl said with another nod.

At the mention of that, Bill scowled. If it wasn't dinosaurs fighting each other, it was that "Lost In Space" program with Anthony as the boy hero always saving everybody.

"For the past few weeks, Mister Serling has been practicing using his power." Still clutching his suspenders, the tall lanky silver-haired Carl practically beamed. He was rarely the center of attention and obviously planned to milk this for all it was worth. "I think whoever or whatever gave Anthony his power also gave Mister Serling his power. And that someone or something sent Mister Serling to help us. It doesn't matter who or how. All that matters is getting rid of Anthony!"

Briefly, Bill stiffened. But instead of a cornfield with people shaking hands, he got Mister Serling calmly elaborating as the robots looked on, motionless.

"As you know, when Anthony concentrates, he's at his most vulnerable. If I can hit him with enough outside stimuli—robots, people with grotesque masks, pig-face people, beautiful people considered ugly, even a talking doll—it could completely wipe out his mind. Then all we have to do is keep him sedated."

Bill thought how Mr. Serling was oddly calm for an involuntary interdimensional traveler.

At that point, a doll walked up to Bill. Turning her head back and forth, she spoke..

"My name is Talking Tina," she said. "And I really don't like Anthony."

"What's this?" Bill growled.

"A talking doll from my T-V show."

"One of your sponsors?"

Serling shook his head. "One of the characters from my show. Here in jail, I've been practicing using my power for the last few weeks. It seems I have at least one limitation: I can only bring to life characters who have appeared on my T-V show. And even then they're only mental projections. But that should be enough to overwhelm Anthony's mind."

"And he probably won't be able to send them to the cornfield," Carl said.

"Let's hope so." Bill thought about Anthony's power. Once Anthony's mom commented how pretty a certain bird was. Anthony sent the bird away along with the two-headed squirrel he had just created.

Kind of silly stuff. But the boy could also turn a man into a jack-in-the-box and erase everything in the world. Involuntarily, Bill shuddered.

Carl jumped back in, clutching his suspenders as he spoke. "I think Mister Serling gives us a real chance of getting rid of Anthony!" He made this declaration with almost manic enthusiasm and he practically beamed as he supplied his most emphatic nod. .

Bill made a face. "Even if that's so, Anthony has been using his power for years. Mister Serling just recently became aware of what he can do. He's only had a few weeks to practice."

Bill didn't want to say it but what good was a writer with his TV characters against a kid who could send away everyone and everything in the world?

Carl, still all smiles, was apparently undeterred.

"That may be so. But Anthony uses his power casually, without even thinking. As a writer, Mister Serling has focus and concentration. Plus he's been writing for years, creating other people and other worlds. I think Mister Serling has all the advantages, a real edge!"

Here, Carl waved his hands wildly, much like the robot on Anthony's "Lost In Space" program.

"I'll remember that when I place my bet," Bill said cynically. But he could understand Carl's enthusiasm. After years of being under the thumb of the Boy Dictator, a person wanted to cut loose with just about any emotion.

Mr. Serling clutched the bars of his cell. "The way I've been practicing in here, I think I'm ready."

"And we can take Anthony by surprise!" A smiling Carl rubbed his hands gleefully.

Briefly, Bill considered. "We may have a shot at this," he concluded quietly.

"Goodbye, Anthony!" Carl beat a fist into a flat palm.

Bill felt a little bit of gladness with his faint hope.

"Do you really feel ready to face Anthony, Mister Serling?" he asked.

Serling nodded. "Ready as I'll ever be, Mister Winters."

Bill also nodded. "Fair enough then."

All the doors in the jailhouse flew open all at once, and the three headed out. The robots followed, along with the doll. Bill felt like he was in some strange TV commercial. Ah, commercials. He missed those. He missed a lot about life B.A. Before Anthony.

The first thing they did was go talk to Anthony's parents. When the topic turned to defeating

Anthony, they both became very nervous, naturally. The mother was practically frantic. But once they realized they could talk about Anthony without anything happening to them, they calmed down.

Mr. Serling spoke to them about the importance of sedating Anthony once he was down on the ground and in a daze. Anthony's mother volunteered to do it.

That didn't sit well with Bill. The mother seemed too emotional for the task, and she was, after all, the boy's mother. She didn't seem like she could sedate the boy, however much of a monster he was..

But Bill could also see the father was no good for anything. He just stood there with his mouth hanging open and his eyes all blank. The man looked like he was completely numb, like he'd shut down a long time ago.

"I'll do it," Bill said.

The mother gave Bill a harsh look.

"No one else touches my son," she snapped.

That was that.

Moments later they went out to the yard where the monster himself was picking at the ground with a toy shovel.

Anthony's mother sounded nervous, even though she had a smile plastered on her face.

"Anthony, weren't you just playing with Emily Dinsmore?"

Without looking up, Anthony spoke in a mumbling lifeless voice.

"I got bored. I sent her away."

Mr. Serling had his robots lined up on both sides of him as he greeted the boy.

"Hello, Anthony."

Anthony's head shot up then he glared as he pointed.

"You're a bad man! You're a very bad man!" Quickly, he rose to his feet and assumed a defiant stance. "You're supposed to be in jail!"

"Well, he's not," Bill said. "What are you going to do about it...brat?" He spat out the word.

Bill knew he was taking a chance. He had no idea how much Mr. Serling could actually protect him.. But did it really matter? Hadn't he already decided life in the cornfield would be better? Canadians and Africans, here I come!

Only nothing happened. Anthony gave Bill a sharp look but he turned away when Mr. Serling snapped his fingers and spoke in a sharp firm voice.

"Anthony! We've decided we liked the outside world just fine the way it was. We want it back."

The robots closed in on Anthony. The boy scrunched up his face like he was trying to send them away. Nothing.

Bill laughed. "Warning, warning," he muttered in the voice of the "Lost In Space" robot.

Looking sharp and stern with his pointy eyebrows, Mr. Serling turned to Anthony's mother.

"Remember: once he's down on the ground, give him the sleeping pills I gave you earlier."

Now the mother looked dazed while the father looked hopeful and almost happy. Something like a smile formed on his face.

Other figures appeared. A man with thick glasses and big eyes clutched a book under one hand as he smiled and said, "I have all the time in the world." Then he took the heavy volume and began beating Anthony with it. As he did so, the man looked almost manic.

The mother gasped as a hand went to her mouth but Bill held her back.

"Don't worry," Mr. Serling said. "Anthony isn't actually being physically harmed. The man with the book is only a mental projection. It's Anthony's mind that's taking a beating. Whatever I do here, whatever I create, it's to wipe out Anthony's mind."

As the mother cried and gasped, the doll moved forward.

"My name is Talking Tina. And I really don't like you, Anthony!"

As the doll kicked the boy, Anthony looked wide-eyed with terror, a sight Bill relished.

"New feeling for you, huh, brat?" he said with a sinister laugh.

Two other people materialized in front of Anthony: a man dressed as a soda jerk with an eye on his forehead and a white-haired man in a long dark coat who used all three of his arms to straighten out his coat and adjust his tie.

The two men spoke cordially to each other.

"What say you, my Martian friend?"

"I say this, my Venusian friend: let's stop fighting each other and fight Anthony!"

They dived into the fray.

More people appeared. Two men and two women clutched their grotesque almost comic faces.

"These masks have become permanent," the short man said. "Let's use them to frighten Anthony!"

Projections of their faces flew out toward Anthony.

A dark-haired man similar to Mr. Serling held hands with a beautiful blonde, one who looked sort of like Betty Grable. A pig-faced man in medical scrubs stood between the attractive couple.

"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder," the pig-faced man said in the voice of Frankenstein's assistant Igor. Bill recalled Igor from B.A.T. Before Anthony Television.

A projection of Doctor Pig-Face flew out at Anthony.

A man and a woman appeared with a tall bald figure.

"'To Serve Man!'" the woman shouted. "It's a cookbook!"

The tall bald one wore a long shiny robe with pointed collars turned up. He leaned down and smiled, a hideous smile of crooked teeth. Like that fellow the Grinch Anthony once created on his TV.

A projection of the Grinch-like face flew towards Anthony.

"All the better to eat you with, little boy," the tall one said in a hoarse raspy voice as his head bobbed above Anthony.

At first, a bowed and bent over Anthony groaned loudly. But then his head shot up, and he gave his tormentors an angry look. When he waved his hand, all those around him went flying. They soared over the cornfield and vanished in mid-air.

Bill barely had time to blink when he saw Mr. Serling down on his knees. The man screamed as he clutched his head. Bill jumped back as lightning bolts shot out of the man's eyes.

It was like that guy Cyclops in the comic book "The X-Men." Again, Before Anthony.

Anthony was still standing but he was also gasping as he clutched his stomach. The boy still looked angry but he also looked a little scared.

Across from the gasping Anthony, Mr. Serling clenched his fists and closed his eyes. The lightning stopped.

Carl reached out his hand. "Mister Serling, please. You can't fail us. You're our only hope!"

Groaning slightly, Mr. Serling slowly opened his eyes. Bill saw he had this look, like he just realized something.

"Of course," Mr. Serling whispered. "Why didn't I think of this before?"

A second Anthony appeared, and he jabbed a finger at the dazed wide-eyed Anthony.

"You're a bad boy!" Anthony-the-Second shouted. "You're a very bad boy!" 

This second Anthony ran forward and dived into the head of the original Anthony. With that, Anthony stumbled back and fell. His mother was quickly at his side cradling his head in her lap. She shoved the sleeping pills into his mouth and poured milk out of a bottle, weeping all the while as she did.

"Did it work?" Anthony's father asked. He cleared his throat like he was not used to speaking. He blinked his eyes, as if just waking up from a horrible dream. Which, Bill thought, was exactly the case.

"I think your answer's right there, sir." Mr. Serling nodded as he pointed.

From the cornfield, various figures emerged , each one looking slightly disoriented. Bill saw there was not a single two-headed squirrel or jack-in-the-box among them. The Fredericks boy was there and his sister and Dan Hollis.

Mr. Serling turned to the father. "If you keep Anthony sedated, there should be no problem."

Anthony's father looked frightened but also hopeful. "You mean, it won't be like before, when he could sense people coming, even in his sleep?"

"It should be fine," Mr. Serling said in a cool calm crisp voice. "A little of his mind remains. But not enough to really matter."

"Mister Serling should know," Carl said. "He's a writer. He creates characters like Anthony. They're part of his T-V show. He knows all about 'em."

"And it's time for me to return home." With that, Mr. Serling walked into the cornfield and vanished.

Bill had no way of knowing if Mr. Serling was back on his own world or ended up in some other place he created. It wasn't his main concern.

"Can I be the first to spank him?" Bill asked.

Anthony's mother looked tearful and angry. "No one touches him."

"I don't think it'll be like before," Anthony's father muttered as he looked down at his son. "I don't think it'll be like when people tried to get him while he was asleep and he'd wake up and and send them away with just a blink of his eyes."

Bill had heard the stories of those who tried to smother Anthony in his sleep.

"Mister Serling said it would be all right," Carl said with a smile and and a nod. Lifting himself on his toes, he clutched his suspenders once again.

Anthony's father looked down at mother and child. Anthony had his eyes closed and mouth open. He looked almost dead.

"It's like his mind is completely gone now," Anthony's father said quietly.

"Mister Serling wiped out his mind, just like he said he would," Carl said proudly.

"Good," Bill said. "Let's kill him."

The tearful mother angrily shook her head while the father went back to his dazed look.

"He's my son," the father whispered. His voice cracked as he went on. "Mister Serling said we just had to keep him sedated."

Bill erupted. "You just met this fellow Serling and you're going to listen to him? You may think you can keep that monster alive and it's just your funeral. Well, it's not!"

Here, Bill waved his hands wildly in the direction of the cornfield and its dazed returnees. "What about the rest of the world? You're playing with their lives, too! Well, I don't know about you but I'm going out to see that world before Anthony takes it away again!"

It was a year after Bill left town that another stranger arrived. This stranger watched events from the outskirts of town. From a distance, he looked in windows, inside the rooms. He noticed that the people of the town took turns giving sleeping pills to a little boy lying in a hospital bed. The stranger determined resolutely that he must rescue that boy.

With his sharp eyebrows and dark skin, the man looked like he was covered with soot and there was an air of quiet madness about him. While he wore a business suit, it was covered with stains and it had rips and holes all over; there was a big tear on the left shoulder. His tie hung loose around his dirty neck. On his dark face he had a crazed look. He looked even more crazed after he knocked out the milkman.

Once he gathered up the sleeping pills, he stood over the boy. What now? Should he carry the boy away?

That's exactly what he did. He ran off with the boy and took him to a barn.

The stranger no longer remembered but he once visited a religious order that claimed to hold the Devil as a prisoner. Persuaded by the prisoner that the poor captive was merely mortal, our Mr. Stranger set him free, only to watch afterwards as he turned into a caped bearded horned figure that quickly vanished.

Years later Mr. Stranger recaptured the Devil but left him in the care of an easily persuaded housekeeper.

Being responsible for years of great evil in the world, Mr. Stranger did the only thing a sane person could: he lost his mind. : He wiped out all memories of his dealings with the Devil. It was, obviously, a defense mechanism. In his amnesiac state, he wandered from place to place, trying to relieve suffering as much as he was able.

Now as he stood over the sleeping Anthony, the stranger heard a voice inside his head.

"Mister, please. Help me."

With wide eyes, Mr. Stranger leaned down to closely study the boy. He could see eyeballs moving back and forth under the eyelids.

"Please, mister. They call me a monster. But look at me. I'm just a little boy, a kid. I could never hurt anyone."

"Yes, I see that," the stranger said in a raspy voice. "You're just a boy. They must be the monsters."

"That's right," Anthony said in a bright chipper voice inside the stranger's mind. "What do you say, mister? Help me really wake up all the way. I only want to go outside and play."

On some other world, Mr. Rod Serling might very well be narrating about a David Ellington who was responsible for letting the Devil himself go free not once but twice, and was now about to release a monster.


End file.
